Harry Potter: Prince of Shadows

The curtains were drawn tightly shut.

Shredded oilcloth and scattered corpses littered the room. Had he not known this was one of his own properties, Snape would have assumed he had stumbled into a Dark wizard's lair.

"So, let me get this straight. You were walking down the street, and by sheer accident, you bumped into a Dark wizard. This Dark wizard, also by pure chance, dropped a piece of parchment."

"And this parchment just happened to contain the instructions for a Dark spell, which you, without realizing, managed to learn purely out of curiosity?"

Snape's cold, piercing gaze locked onto Ian. His expression was so sour, his face looked like a crumpled piece of parchment, his brows twisted into a knot that seemed impossible to untangle.

"Yes, that's exactly what happened."

Ian nodded enthusiastically, like a bobblehead doll.

"Professor, I swear I'm innocent! I'm the victim here! My poor, fragile heart was so terrified last night that I couldn't sleep at all!" Ian widened his green eyes as much as possible, attempting to look as pitiful as he could.

Of course, his words were only half true.

Even though he was new to this world, Ian knew well enough that a book like Secrets of Advanced Dark Magic was practically the wizarding world's equivalent of a highly illegal and forbidden book.

Claiming Aurora had given it to him?

Even if that excuse somehow managed to absolve him, the book would undoubtedly be confiscated. Worse, he could even be held accountable for possessing Secrets of Advanced Dark Magic in the first place!

After all—

Aurora had a grandfather named Grindelwald.

Ian, however, did not.

If Aurora possessed Secrets of Advanced Dark Magic, it could be considered a matter of family heritage. If Ian had it, he'd probably be branded as a dark wizard!

"I had no idea this place was once a graveyard, Professor! You wouldn't believe it—when those corpses started crawling out from under the floorboards, I was scared out of my mind!"

Ian exaggerated his tone, selling his terror as best as he could.

Unfortunately—

Snape wasn't buying it.

"You little rat, do you think I'm as naive as those little children at the orphanage?" Snape's voice was laced with venom, his clenched jaw barely concealing his irritation.

"Do you really believe Dark wizards are just wandering around, waiting to drop powerful magic in front of unsuspecting fools?"

It was clear he didn't believe a word of Ian's story.

"It was a Dark wizard! I ran into one in London before, too! He followed me for ages, trying to abduct me for some sinister experiment. Who's to say this wasn't the same one?"

Ian doubled down on his fabricated tale, hoping to bolster its credibility by referencing past encounters.

To his dismay—

Snape's expression darkened even further.

"Shut up!"

His sharp rebuke rang through the room.

"Tell me the truth!"

Snape's already overwhelming presence grew even more oppressive.

"That is the truth…"

Ian's confidence wavered slightly. It wasn't his fault—before his reincarnation, he had been an ordinary university student, the kind who once got scammed by counterfeit money while selling cold jelly during summer break.

If not for the sudden emotional fluctuations Snape experienced upon storming in—fluctuations that Ian had instinctively sensed—he wouldn't have dared to persist in his lies so stubbornly.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that, with no training, no guidance, a mere orphan who didn't even know what magic was managed to master a complex Dark spell on his own?"

"Hah! The Corpse Manipulation Curse—even fourth- and fifth-year students wouldn't dare claim they could learn such a spell in mere days!"

Snape sneered, his smirk dripping with derision.

"Perhaps you do have some innate gift from the heavens, a natural Legilimens…" Snape began pacing back and forth across the ruined sitting room, his sharp eyes never leaving Ian for a second. "But let me remind you, there are countless wizards far more talented than you. Do you truly believe you could surpass the Dark Lord?"

Classic Snape—dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

"I never said that, Professor," Ian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Ah, so you have at least glanced at the history books and learned who the Dark Lord is. That's something, I suppose," Snape observed, scrutinizing Ian's every reaction.

Then, suddenly—

His voice rose, sharp as a blade.

"If that's the case, then why, why, would you think your troll-sized brain could construct such an idiotic lie and expect me to believe that you, of all people, managed to do something even he couldn't?!"

"Let me be perfectly clear—when the Dark Lord was your age, even he had not mastered this kind of magic."

Snape's glare was so intense, Ian felt as though he was being mentally flayed alive.

"Hah! You actually know who the Dark Lord really is?" Ian feigned shock, attempting to divert the conversation.

Snape, however, refused to take the bait.

His glare remained murderous.

"I could send you to Azkaban right now. The Aurors would pry into that Legilimency you're so proud of and dig out every single one of your secrets. You'd spend the rest of your days in the company of Dementors."

"The only reason I haven't done so yet is because I'm giving you a chance… You need to understand that your status as a Hogwarts student is the only reason I am allowing you this one opportunity."

Snape's voice was laced with icy menace.

"Professor, I don't want to go to Azkaban!"

Ian stared at Snape, wide-eyed and panicked.

His reaction was only half an act.

Of course, he was nervous—but he wasn't truly afraid that Snape would send him to Azkaban. He wasn't stupid. He could tell there was some connection between them.

If there wasn't—

Forget providing money, lodging, or even taking him to buy secondhand textbooks at Diagon Alley—Snape probably wouldn't have given him the time of day.

"If you want to stay out of prison, then tell me—who taught you Dark magic?"

Snape's eyes bore into Ian's.

"It was a Dark wizard. He dropped a note. Right in front of me."

Ian stuck to his original story. There was no way he was giving up Secrets of Advanced Dark Magic, personally annotated by Grindelwald.

Knowledge wasn't a crime!

SMACK!

Snape slammed his palm against the table, furious.

"Fine! Just fine! You think I can't find this so-called Dark wizard to verify your pathetic excuse?"

His teeth clenched so tightly it sounded like he was grinding his molars to dust.

"I am telling the truth."

Ian once again put on his best expression of innocent bewilderment.

Well.

It was technically the truth—just not all of the truth, and with a bit of artistic embellishment.

"You unbearable little brat!"

Snape sneered.

Then—

He snatched a quill and parchment from the table and furiously scrawled something down.

"What are you doing?" Ian asked curiously.

"I am writing another mysterious note dropped by a Dark wizard. Go on, Mr. Prince, prove your exceptional talent—stronger than the Dark Lord, perhaps even Dumbledore himself!"

Snape shoved the parchment toward Ian, his voice thick with mockery, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

Ian's eyes lit up.

"Professor, are you teaching me magic?"

He eagerly examined the parchment.

Sure enough—

It contained detailed instructions for a spell.

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